


Oh monster of mine

by Random_Human



Series: ShinIchi Week 2019 [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Future Shinichi, Hollow Ichigo as protector / teacher, Ichigo never met Rukia, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not as much as my other fic's I promise, ShinIchi Week 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 22:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Human/pseuds/Random_Human
Summary: In some worlds, Rukia Kuchiki comes crashing into Ichigo's life, bringing with her the world of Shinigami.In others, Ichigo grows up with his hollow an everyday presence, a protector and eventual mentor.In some worlds, it's Shinji who drags him into the war.





	Oh monster of mine

**Author's Note:**

> ShinIchi Week 2019 Day 3 - Cannon divergence  
> My "what if" was, what if Ichigo never met Rukia, and instead it was Shinji who introduced him to the supernatural world. This isn't quite that, but it stemmed from that thought.
> 
> I was hoping for more ShinIchi interaction, but since it's 4 am on the 6th (and thus a bit overdue) I stopped it where I did, I, however, do really like this verse and want to revisit it in the future.
> 
> Also a big thanks to [Rebthewriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebthewriter/pseuds/rebthewriter) for motivating me to actually finish this!
> 
> Happy reading :)

As Ichigo grew, he became increasingly aware of the presence in his life. Of the _other_ that followed wherever he went, hidden in the shadows of a room, lurking just around a darkened corner, the monster under the bed. One would think he would be terrified. A young child assaulted with an image like that out of a broken mirror. Features similar to his own but aged, older, darker. A washed out reflection of what he could be if that future included a Yokai mask and the occasional cackle.

But Ichigo never worried. Although its visage was terrifying, for some reason the presence felt warm, it was safe, it was _home_. Even more so than with his mother, when he was with his monster Ichigo could relax, could be something other than a mothers boy, and later familial protector.

Ichigo never told anyone of his monster, instinctively knew not to. He knew that this wasn’t a childish fantasy – or nightmare, wasn’t an imaginary friend or anything of that ilk. He knew the silent presence wouldn’t hurt him, couldn’t even comprehend harming him. Others, however, that was a completely different story.

Ichigo’s first Karate lesson was memorable, to say the least. In the past, the presence had helped him, stopped him before he could fall, protected him from the world. Now it could no longer. Although it knew there was no real danger, it prowled, eyes wild and presence bristling, although none, bar one, could see it. From that day it changed. Became far more active. It seemed to comprehend that there was more than just protecting Ichigo from physical harm. As Ichigo grew and changed so it seemed to grow, mature and change. Although it still _looked_ the same, it was clearly different.

The monster now seemed to comprehend the reason for Ichigo’s lessons, it learned that at times pain was necessary to growth. It stopped protecting Ichigo from all harm, and instead focused itself outwards. A few months after Ichigo’s 6th birthday, the monster had stopped being a daily presence in his life. Yes, it was always there, Ichigo could still feel it, feel its presence and its warmth. But it was clear its focus – and physical presence – was elsewhere. It wasn’t until Ichigo’s ninth year of life that he understood this change, understood the world he had been born into.

\--- 

Misaki’s death changed things. It changed Isshin, transformed him from a doting father into a grieving widower, Ichigo from a _mama’s boy_ into a _protector_. But most of all, it changed the monster. 

The first time it spoke was a shock. Ichigo was holed up in his room for the night, exhausted from a long day of caring for his sisters, and himself, Isshin nowhere to be seen. Like most nights of late, he was awoken from the dreams – memories – with a jolt, heavy sobs rocking his body. Although its presence filled the room with the usual warmth, the monster was no longer enough to fill the new void in the child’s heart.

The rough voice pierces the silence, gritty with disuse and with an odd warped countenance, “Aibou… I’m here.” The monster rasps as it pulls the child into an embrace.

The following years were… different, to say the least. The monster was no longer simply titled _monster_ , it – he – was now Shiro, a childish exclamation at their differing colour schemes that somehow stuck. Shiro, as he was now known, became a harsh task master, using long forgotten – some would say stolen – memories to train his King, his aibou. 

Ichigo’s days were filled with duty, taking care of his sisters, taking care of his Oyaji, taking care of his grades. Living up to the expectations set for one his age, and demolishing those based on his appearance. His nights were filled with _training_. At first it was internal, stances learnt in the odd inner world his monster – hollow as he now knew, but old habits tend to stick – dragged him into, progressing into fights, learning the right way to dodge, the right way to run, how to Shunpo, Sonido, fire a wide range of Kido, and even a small Cero. 

Once Shiro had declared him, “Competent enough not to get killed, I guess.” (For as the years had progressed, so had grown their camaraderie, a relationship filled with easy banter that would make them look like antagonistic allies at the most) Ichigo was finally allowed to take all his progress, all his powers, hidden and years in the making, out into the real world. It was disappointingly easy. 

After years of intense training, night-after-night of battles against an opponent that far above his league it was laughable, when Ichigo finally got to the point he could fight Shiro on an even ground, to the point where he was trusted to finally defend himself from the hollows that plagued Karakura Town, he was already far above their level. Yet still, Shiro tasked him to do better, be better. Made him learn their weaknesses, even when one strike through the mask _could_ easily kill them, Shiro was preparing his mind for enemies of a much harsher temperament.

And thus life went on. Ichigo still training in his mind on a regular basis, but now spending his nights on the prowl, finally allowed to be the hunter, not the prey. Yes, by the age of 16 – with 7 years of gruelling training under his belt, and a frankly ridiculous learning curve – the battles were easy, mindless, and almost monotonous. But he had found a new way to exercise his abilities.

Shiro used his ill-remembered abilities to hide Ichigo from others that may find his development _interesting_ , to say the least. But more than that, they had always known that there was another presence, oft hidden in the shadows, that took note of the sudden ‘decrease’ in Hollows wreaking havoc, despite their increase in activity during the nebulous months it took Ichigo to reign in his tumultuous Reiatsu. It had been a long held game of keep away, as they used everything in their arsenal to keep their secrets. Until one day they made a mistake.

Although there was nothing spectacular about the battle, although these fights were a common occurrence in the life of Ichigo Kurosaki, although a lot of things, the battle had left the teen out of sorts, reeling at the revelation that he had finally gained some sort of justice for his mother, had been able to at the very least kill the creature that had caused her death. Shiro was doing his best to comfort the redhead, to keep them both together, but he too had slipped as a long held rage escaped him – this was the creature that caused his aibou so much pain. So it was to be expected, that with their control, both mental and the tight held bonds over their Reiatsu, slipping, they were finally caught out.

They were startled out of long held memories – repeated nightmares – by a slow clapping. “Maa, maa, Kurosaki-kun, so it was you all this time.” The unknown figure that had been stalking them finally showed his face. He was clad in a rather… traditional garb, Ichigo’s sharp defence focused on the crux of that appearance. 

“What do you want Geta-bōshi?”

“Just to congratulate you on your spectacularly easy defeat of a Hollow that has been killing Shinigami for years.” The shop keep’s light-hearted tone belied the intensity of his words. “It makes one wonder where you learned such… skills.”

And thus began a new sort of game. One where Ichigo often had to weigh the secrets he held against truths learned from a centuries-old Shinigami, one with experience and knowledge of just how deep some secrets could run.

Since Ichigo had been ‘outed’ as such he didn’t have to go to nearly as much trouble in hiding his activities. Evading the local Shinigami was child’s play compared into the effort they had to put into shaking Urahara’s surveillance. But none the less, it made the killing of hollows even easier than before. It meant that any hollow he sensed was swiftly dispatched whenever he had a free moment, it meant that although he left a sparse few weaklings so that the Seireitei wouldn’t be too alarmed by the town’s lack of hollow, that the hollow who would once change his life – propelling him into a world he had come to know far too soon – was dead by his hand almost as soon as it started terrifying the plus souls. It meant that Ichigo Kurosaki and Rukia Kuchiki never met.

\--- 

As he entered the classroom, almost late due to a hollow-killing detour, Ichigo instinctively knew something was going to change, something big. Surrounded by the casual banter and chaos his friends created he acted on instinct, it wasn’t until the class let out a loud exclamation of surprise that he had realised what had been said, “transfer student.” That’s when he noticed it, the feeling of unease that had cloaked him all morning finally realised as his senses were blanketed with a heavy Reiatsu. 

His mind worked double-time even as the door slid open. There was no way Urahara was this stupid; he already knew about Ichigo so this couldn’t be one of his plots. Similarly, he knew he had the Shinigami fooled, and they were far too short-sighted to focus on the living world anyways. So what could this new presence be? It did feel like that of a Shinigami, but it also was eerily familiar in a way he could not place. Lost in his thoughts he didn’t realise that the introduction was over the whatever-it-was came closer, almost overwhelming his senses.

Hirako Shinji, he quickly read from the board, not a moment too soon, as the so-called student plopped into place beside him, “So you’re my neighbour. Let’s be friends… Kurosaki.”

“Y-Yeah. Pleased to meet you.” His voice stilted as he tried to recover, just how did this stranger, with even odder Reiatsu, know his name? He stubbornly looked away, forcing his usual scowl into place as he recovered his composure. In his peripheral, he couldn’t help but notice the piano-toothed smirk being aimed at him.

\--- 

Later that night, after he had avoided the witless Shinigami on duty, he had only moments to react as a sword was being thrust towards him, Reiatsu hidden only moments ago now bearing down on him, even more concentrated than it had been scant hours earlier. Turning in a flurry of movement, he materialised the sealed form of his Zanpakuto – the other side to Shiro, as they had later discovered, long after the name had stuck – to defend himself.

Fed up with the way his own Reiatsu was reacting, flaring and losing control from the other’s intent focus and familiar nature he shouted, “Who the hell are you? Why do you have a Zanpakuto when –”

He was rudely interrupted as the other brought a finger to his lips, “Shh.” He continued, oblivious to Ichigo’s still-growing ire, “Don’t make too much noise, Kurosaki Ichigo. Guys with Reiatsu like us shouldn’t make a fuss. The world will tremble when they notice you.”

Ichigo all but erupted with suppressed rage, “WHY are you being so cryptic! Just who the hell are you? And does your Reiatsu feel so damn familiar?” Panting heavy breaths, for the second time that day he tightened his control, pulling tight and feeling the familiar sensation of too much power contained in a too small vessel. He would have to let loose soon, or it wouldn’t be pretty.

With that Hirako did a double take. His gaze rapidly assessing Ichigo as he took in the matching school uniform and obvious lack of anything noticeably _Shinigami_ , except the small Tanto that had just moments ago, pushed him back – a pair to the Kodachi now held in the teen’s other hand, Shinji noted with some surprise – so at odds with the ferocious power he had wielded not moments before. The fact that all that power was now gone, and that the boy felt like little more than a regular soul.

A heavy silence filled the air as the two stared at one another, Ichigo waiting for some sort of explanation and Shinji far to gobsmacked by these new revelations to provide one. The quiet eventually pierced by the sharp howls of a number of hollow. Both Visored – although one did not yet know of the term – jumped into action.

“See? I told you. Now, look what you’ve done.” Shinji chastised, “It’s all because you were raising your Reiatsu.”

“Hey, wait! Hold on a second. You’re blaming _me_ for this! You started it, and if you hadn’t attacked me I wouldn’t have had to bring out my Zanpakuto, or raise my Reiatsu in the first place!” The teen promptly turned and bolted off in a rush of Shunpo, having felt one of the energy? signatures move close to the clinic – to his sisters.

He arrived above the house in a flash, taking in the oversized hollow as it meandered ever closer. He knew he had to make quick work of it, not wanting to risk either one of the girls getting injured. That in mind he called to his connection with Shiro, “Tear the sky asunder, Zangetsu.” The two swords representing his dual nature easily formed in his hands left grasping around a smaller Trench knife and right around an oversized Khyber knife.

The teen stood his ground, quickly firing of a vastly overpowered Getsuga Tenshō, he knew it was overkill but as he watched the hollow fade into nothing, he only felt a sense of satisfaction. He turned to go after the other hollow, before it could attempt to harm anyone, only to realise that it too was dissolving into Reishi. Hirako’s presence again drew nearer, but Ichigo moved to intercept him, not wanting any sort of confrontation in such a blatant place.

Coming to stop in a small park they eyed one another, wary after their respective displays of power. “You know, you never explained who you are?” Ichigo commented, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah, well Kisuke never told me that _you_ had such control over your power’s.” Hirako muttered

“What does Geta-bōshi have to do with this?” The teen barked out.

“Kid, you have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written over the course of 5 hours, and posted at 4.30 am so there may be some errors, feel free to comment on them. Other comments provide motivation ;)


End file.
